


sometimes, often, always

by maiaronan



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-09 17:41:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12281325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiaronan/pseuds/maiaronan
Summary: They were two identical clocks, wound to tick at the same time, disrupted by entropy, now finally rewinding the gears to match each other once more.





	1. scott

It must’ve been the most bizarre date, to most other people in this world. But it was Scott and Tessa. The concept of bizarre anything had left their vocabulary decades ago. When the reality of spending twelve to thirteen hours a day physically handling each other’s bodies became the norm, they agreed to stop thinking anything was “weird”. It just was.

And to be clear, it wasn’t a date. Well, it wasn’t necessarily... not a date either. It was just like everything else in their relationship. Not... but not necessarily not... not. Did that make sense?

Probably not.

Scott sighed. So many shades of gray.

He thought to himself that at some point, all of this had to either: stop making sense, or it would suddenly all become clear to him. How he hadn’t reached one of those conclusions yet was mystifying. He was still in this fog that he’d entered almost thirty years ago. Three decades and the sun still hadn’t come out.

But he felt good about today. He couldn’t explain it.

This was the first time in a long time that they were in the same city, at the same time. Months? Years. It’d actually been _years_ since they’d last seen each other in person. Which is, Scott guessed, what _normal_ friends did. They would see each other from time to time... and that was it.

Scott ran his hand through his thinning hair. It was about time he’d just admitted that it was more gray than black now. He wondered if Tessa developed any white hairs over the years. Even if she did, she probably just dyed them. She probably couldn’t stand the idea of random gray patches shooting through her dark hair. It would drive her crazy.

Scott found himself smiling at the thought as it passed through his mind. She’d probably have him pull them out. “ _Scott, another one_ ,” she probably would’ve said, showing him the offending strand.

His smile disappeared as quickly as it’d come.

The industrial lights above him flickered, blindingly white. The hum of the rink filled his mind as he let his thoughts drift into nothingness.

He sat down on the cold metal bench. The rink was empty, save for the janitor outside, cleaning the floors by the vending machines.

Scott slowly unzipped his bag. The sound of the zipper sounded like thunder in the quiet. His hand reached inside to feel the hard leather of his skates.

He’d bought these skates ages ago, and had never touched them. He’d gotten them on the pretense that he’d actually have time to skate, but he was incredibly wrong about that. Eight years and two divorces later, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had the time to go down to the rink.

As he was lacing them up, he wondered if Tessa still skated regularly, or if she’d moved on to other things. He couldn’t imagine that she would’ve. Skating was that girl’s entire life.

_Girl_. Scott almost laughed. She was 38 years old, and he was still referring to her as a “girl”.

He stepped onto the ice. Even though he hadn’t properly skated in a while, everything was still fresh in his mind. _Like riding a bicycle._

He floated around the rink aimlessly for a while, just letting that high-pitched buzz take over his senses. He skated figure eights, watching his blades carve patterns into the ice, and just let himself think.

He’d heard she was in town through the grapevine, late last night. It was almost laughable what he did next—he sent her a message that basically equated a novel, with the only purpose of affirming that he, indeed, was also in town, and oh, how he’d love to catch up, if she was free, if she wanted to do something, maybe something casual like go for a skate in the morning, for old times sake, (he threw in a winky face because he was Scott and he couldn’t resist), he’d buy her breakfast afterwards, or better yet, chocolate, if she wanted that instead—

And Tessa, the ever-professional, simply said that she’d love to and she’d meet him here tomorrow morning.

So he was there.

He found himself clenching and unclenching his fists. Was he nervous? Excited? Anxious? After all, he hadn’t seen her in years. What if she came with three children and a husband in tow? Or a girlfriend? Or... anybody?

Scott affirmed that he would have to leave right away if that was the case.

He stopped himself before he hit the boards, sending up a spray of ice with his blades.

_He’d pleaded with her in 2018. It was December and the holiday lights were strung up in the trees. He and Tessa were wandering around the town, window shopping, enjoying how absurdly festive everything was. It was breathtakingly beautiful, under all the snow. It was perfect._

_He had gotten down on one knee at the end of the block, mostly out of stupidity, desperation, and impulsivity more than anything. He didn’t know what he was proposing exactly—it wasn’t marriage—no, they hadn’t even officially dated yet, so it was something like proposing dating, but they’d already dated for twenty years, he said, gripping her hands tighter and tighter, so maybe they could date forever together because he was in love with her?_

_So many shades of gray. God damnit._

_Scott never prided himself in being particularly eloquent or intelligent under pressure, but he was sure Tessa understood what he was saying. She had to._

_But there were tears in Tessa’s eyes._

_Scott realized they were not tears of joy. His heartbeat quickened._

_Tessa just stood there and cried._

_Scott instinctively got up and pulled her to him, wiping her cheeks with the sleeves of his white jacket until they turned black from her mascara. He tucked her face into his neck and patted her back soothingly, nuzzling her hair and breathing in her warm, delicious perfume. Tessa was clinging to him as her body racked with sobs. Scott had never heard her cry like that before. She sounded like her heart was being shredded into tiny pieces._

“ _What’s wrong?” Scott dared to ask, quietly, furrowing his brow, feeling his heart race with panic. “Did I... I’m sorry...”_

“ _No,” Tessa replied tearfully, blinking up at him. She looked breathtaking, even when her face was flushed and her makeup was running everywhere._

_She took a deep, steadying breath, and untangled herself from him. She stepped back and faced him, trying to calm herself. When she looked him in the eyes again, Scott could see that the emotion had subdued._

“ _No,” she whispered. “I can’t. I’m... so sorry, Scott. I’m so sorry.”_

That was eight years ago.

And Scott knew that was the end. There were no more 5 am practices, no more competitions to skate, no more tv and radio interviews, to hold them together.

He never forgave himself for ending the last thread of their friendship too.

And just as he’d predicted, they slowly, but surely, fell apart into numbing mediocrity. They were helpless—what could they do? What were they going to do if they weren’t going to skate anymore? Eventually, the demand for interviews and appearances waned, and the media left them alone, for the most part. Sometimes, when an Olympic game would pop up, they’d ask for them to reappear on a talk show. But that was about it.

So many times Scott just wanted to pull off an 80’s movie move and do something absurd, like climb into her bedroom window just to see her again. He just wanted to play with her fingers while they sat in bed and talked for hours and hours... just like they used to in hotel rooms, when they were traveling for competitions. And sometimes, in those said hotel rooms, they’d lie together and Scott would figure out which parts of Tessa’s body would make her giggle when he kissed it. And _sometimes_ , she’d return the favor, except she was doing a lot more than kissing, and Scott was definitely doing a lot more than just giggling. (He’d muffle his groans of pleasure into the pillowcase, just in case someone next door could hear them and decide to write a headline about it the next day.) And even sometimes, they’d fall asleep together, their bodies tangled under the blanket—warm, content, tired from their lovemaking, and enjoy a wonderful, dreamless sleep. Those were the best _sometimes-_ es, and Scott was always convinced he was the luckiest person alive.

But they weren’t reckless, lovestruck kids anymore. And he’d tried the proper, adult thing of pseudo-marriage-dating-whatever. She didn’t want him.

_And why would she?_

Scott realized he had been digging his pick into the ice and creating a nicely-sized crater in the ice for the past few minutes.

Tessa was the most beautiful woman in the entire universe. Scott had never doubted it. And he... he was alright, he guessed. “ _You’re obviously the hot one in this relationship_ ,” he would always joke with Tessa, and she’d crack a smile, shaking her head. He loved how her eyes lit up when he said stupid stuff like that.

“ _Scott, you’re always selling yourself short. You’re...”_ Tessa would always start to say, but she could never seem to finish it. Her eyes would trail over his face and body, and they would get all misty and fiery at the same time, and Scott would laugh and catch himself red in the face.

Hey, as long as Tessa thought he was decent-looking, right?

Tessa was brilliant. She had like, two university degrees. The first thing she did after the Olympics was go back to school. Scott had never tried going to college—he wasn’t cut out for that stuff.

Tessa was business savvy, so clever, so ambitious, always knew what she wanted and how to get it. She got the fashion line she always wanted after PyeongChang, which was a wild success, fueled by their gold medal win. She expanded her jewelry line, and finally hit half a million followers on Instagram. Check, check, check. Her current job was commentating for CBC’s figure skating broadcasts. She even became an author, creating a kid’s series about figure skaters.

Scott had a few things to do here and there after they retired, but it was nowhere as busy as Tessa’s life.

Almost bitterly, he resigned to the fact that she would be better off marrying some rich doctor-person. An academic. A smart guy who dresses smartly. Drives a ridiculously expensive car and eats at ridiculously expensive restaurants. An anti-Scott, who loved his hockey jerseys and dirty jeans, and settling back in a small, Canadian town to have a couple kids and enjoy the rest of his life in peace and quiet.

Scott shook his head out of his stupor. This wasn’t productive. He forced himself to start skating again, just so he’d stop destroying the ice with his pick.

But she’d agreed to skate with him today. Maybe just this once. Scott almost lost his breath thinking about how he may have go another eight years without Tessa after today. He was convinced he couldn’t do it.

After Tessa made it clear that they were just going to... see each other from time to time, as _friends_ , Scott threw himself into his most earnest attempt to become a normal human. It was the only way he could’ve prevented himself from going completely insane. What else was someone supposed to do after their other half had been ripped away from them?

Scott met a cute, perky local radio DJ named Anastasia, who was very attractive and seemed to have her head screwed on right. She became his girlfriend for a little while. His family welcomed her, like he knew they always would, but he knew what they were thinking. _She’s no Tessa_.

There would never _be_ another Tessa. He’d already met his soulmate, and that usually only came in packages of _one_.

Scott and Anastasia got married way too quickly, but everyone acted as if that wasn’t the case. Even Tessa, who politely stood by and beamed her camera smile as they both... survived the wedding. Scott couldn’t help but let his eyes wander the entire evening, searching for her and her wonderful purple dress. _Always searching for her._

She’d danced with him at the reception, but only because everyone was drunk and goading them on to show them some of their old moves. She took his hand and they whirled across the dance floor, somehow still absolutely perfect dancers even under the influence of alcohol. His heart soared as he spun her in and out and up and around... What was he doing with his life if he wasn’t dancing with Tessa Virtue? He tried to lift her, but they just crumpled in a heap of giggles on the floor. Her face was so close to his that he could see every eyelash. He could’ve kissed her on her panting, parted mouth, her lipstick still somehow in place. He _would’ve_ kissed her if their friends hadn’t dragged them to their feet. He found himself thrown back into Anastasia’s arms, and that was that.

His first marriage fell apart in less than a year. The divorce papers were signed and he was single again.

Tessa had not spoken to him since the wedding, and Scott felt like it was inappropriate to start talking to her outside of some occasional business messages. “ _Can you do BBC Radio 1 next month?” “Danielle wants us to do another photoshoot for the upcoming Olympics, please reply asap!” “Make A Wish has a kid who wants to spend a day with us... so cute I can’t refuse! Let me know!”_

It was so impersonal, but Scott felt like his heart would burst every time he saw her name flash across his phone screen. Even if it was just a business message. It was _Tessa_.

He was still in love with her. Absolutely hopelessly in love. He knew it. She was the only one who would come to mind when he lay there alone at night. He would often dream of her. It would sometimes be the most arbitrary dreams, of things that’d never really happened—him and Tessa on a picnic, him and Tessa at an amusement park, him and Tessa in a house he’d never seen before and a room he did not recognize... Sometimes he’d dream of making love to her, his fingers tangled in her long, gorgeous hair, hearing her spine-tingling moans muffled into his chest as he buried himself inside her, lights bursting behind his closed eyelids as he tried desperately to show her how much he loved her.

And more often than not, he’d dream of skating with Tessa. He never knew where they were, or how he knew the choreography of this imaginary dance, but he still reveled in the rush of just being on the ice, spinning with her, touching her, holding her, flying with the most beautiful girl in the world. The dance never ended. They just kept dancing and dancing and dancing... until Scott woke up. Alone.

It was killing him. He couldn’t explain it, but he could feel it. An intangible part of him was dying.

Scott wondered if he was going crazy, if anybody would understand what he meant when he said that. _Tessa would_ , he would think, and then berate himself for even thinking about Tessa. She probably had someone by now. Rinse, repeat.

Scott found someone named Abigail, a sports journalist covering the Worlds in 2023. She was petite, quick, and also a divorcee. They dated, got married privately, and Scott thought things would be alright. Until Abigail left. Scott never saw it coming.

“ _She never understood you, Scott_ ,” his mother had said. Scott couldn’t see it. He was always too naive. He was _still_ too naive, even at 40. After all, he was actually going to try to talk to his ex-dance partner for the first time in eight years. As if he didn’t learn the first time. (He didn’t).

And he was alone again. And he was still desperately in love with Tessa.

_Nothing had changed_.

Scott wondered if he was just destined to suffer like this because of some great, karmatic event that forced him to pay for exhilarating first half of his life. What a cruel trick the universe would play on him, by placing the love of his life right in front of his fingertips, but never let him have her.

Then he had a dream.

It was another Tessa dream, but this one was... different. Or maybe it wasn’t, but Scott chose to think it was.

They were back on that snowy night in 2018. A 30 year old Tessa stood in front of him. This was right after he’d proposed. The Christmas lights were still hanging around them, casting the snow in a champagne glow. But Tessa wasn’t crying.

She was holding his hands. He could feel her fingers lacing through his. It felt so... _real_.

“I was wrong,” was all Tessa said, her eyes staring so deeply into his that he thought he’d drown in them.

That’s when Scott awoke and knew he needed to ask her again.

He’d been so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the gate clanging open. He almost jumped. He whirled around to see who it was.

Who else could it have been? His eyes followed her as she made her way across the ice, her blades barely making a sound as she gracefully soared over to him, smiling. He drank in the sight, savoring every second of her approaching figure.

She was wearing a pair of fingerless gloves, he noticed, as she waved at him. Her smile was still perfect, and her eyes still crinkled when she did, and her eyes were still the most perfect shade of green, like jade, and fir trees, and...

“Mr Scott Moir,” Tessa said playfully as she skated up to him, twirling into a flirty curtsey. “What a pleasure.”


	2. tessa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe that’s why she’d left him. She was so tired of watching the fireworks that she went to become one.

While Scott was having dreams, Tessa had nightmares. One that she’d often have involved her skating out into an empty rink, hearing the roar of the crowd, and her heartbeat drumming in her throat, welcoming the rush of competition. She’d hear the announcer—“ _Representing Canada... Tessa Virtue_.” And that was the end of the sentence, and then Tessa would whip around to realize that Scott wasn’t there beside her—had never been there in the first place—and then she’d spin around in a panic, looking for him, and the faces in the crowd would melt and blur into an unbreathable darkness. “ _Scott_!” she’d cry out, feeling her blood freeze as the brightest spotlight shone in her eyes, blinding her, sending her into a dizzying spiral of light until she woke up with a start, fists clenched and heart pounding out of her chest.

Tessa had been able to delay the inevitable for three more years. The sad truth about skating is that one cannot do it forever. There had to be a definite end. At some point there’ll be a door. And the door will be closed. She woke up one morning and her knee was having its third, fourth, fifth surgery, and it would not let her fight the inevitable anymore. _Slam_. There goes the door.

But she had the gold in hand! The final checkbox ticked off, she was finally able to turn the page with shaking, excited hands.

And there was everything she’d always wanted, everything she’d told herself she’d get _after_ her skating career had successfully come to a close. Some of them remnants of her middle school dream-board, some of them new thoughts that’d just sprung to her head. Going to school, having her own fashion line, coaching, getting married, maybe having a kid or two... There it was. Her life after her current life, all planned out and ready to go.

And yet, somewhere in there, she’d forgotten Scott.

It wasn’t intentional, she realized, her hands turning cold. She never wanted to leave Scott out of her life, but she had struggled to fit him in. Where did he fit in, if they weren’t skating partners? She had to either demote him to a friend, or he had to become her... boyfriend? Husband? Why was it like that? Why did normal people not have skating partners in real life? Tessa supposed people had soulmates, kindred spirits, twin flames—but what did they do with them? If books and movies were any reflection of life outside the rink, it did not end well.

Tessa could not make a decision, and she did not want to think about it. Scott was simple, but Tessa was not. Perhaps that was really what had happened that night.

There’d been a massive reunion in Canton at the rink for the holidays—and it was overwhelmingly huge and the most obnoxious thing Tessa could ever remember attending (she must’ve been getting old, _really_ old...). Everyone had been there—absolutely _everybody_ who’d trained and skated on that miserable block of ice in the past one hundred million years. Scott took one look at Tessa in the midst of the dizzying array of people and lights and music and noise, mouthed “let’s get out of here”, and the two of them took off, hand in hand.

They drove to Ann Arbor in the dark and the snow, until the soft fairy lights of the city trees appeared through their dashboard. The quiet cobblestone roads, blanketed in white, emptied of college students who’d returned home for the holidays, carried its own mystique and charm. There was nothing here except a safe, peaceful fantasy of old-school diners and the retro lights of the State Theater. The shop windows were absolutely stuffed with holiday apparel and gifts, and people milled about with gentle smiles on their faces. Tessa had tilted her head up to catch a snowflake, overtaken by her childish side in that moment, and when she looked back down she saw Scott on one knee.

Her heart had broken. Because she simply did not know if she really did love him, or if it was a product of _having_ to spend twenty-something years together. And here she was, with a choice, for once in her life. She didn’t know if she knew what love _was_ , because she’d never been able to _really_ date someone, or have a _real_ relationship, because she’d devoted all of her heart to skating.

She’d watched almost every other couple in the sport, who’d taken the initiative to _actually date_ , end horribly. Watching their fights and tears and heartbreak scared her into swearing that she’d never make those promises to Scott, no matter how intimate they’d get. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was selfless. Tessa wanted to preserve the beauty—in just the _wholesomeness_ of their love for one another, the untainted passion they had for each other—for as long as she possibly could. What good would it do if they were only able to tolerate each other for a couple years? No. She needed more than a couple years. She needed a couple decades, a couple _centuries_ , ideally, if humans could actually live that long. She needed Scott forever.

So why had she said no to forever?

Tessa asked herself that sometimes, and could never quite figure out the answer.

Growing up, Scott had been her first everything. That shouldn’t (couldn’t) come as a surprise to anybody—from the sheer amount of time they’d spent with each other, it was both logical and inevitable that she’d share most of her life experiences with him. He was the first boy to hold her hand and not give her cooties, the first boy to (willingly) hug her, the first boy to see her cry. And then, suddenly, Scott stopped being a boy. He was the first man to kiss her, the first man to spend the night in her bed. The first man to tell her that he loved her, in all the ways that “ _I love you”_ could possibly mean. And she never doubted that he did.

Yet “logical and inevitable” wasn’t exactly horribly romantic, and Tessa had always believed in the romantic kind of fluff (whatever that was). She and Scott could fabricate it so well during their performances, which just made it more difficult to discern reality from the stage. Maybe Scott was a good actor, and that was all.

 _Of course not_ , Tessa would tell herself, and then the previous thought became laughable. She _knew_ how he looked at her and touched her and how he _talked_ to and about her, and how it made her insides burn and flutter and swoop. And he _must’ve_ known how much she needed him. But those moments were more like micro-moments—so brief and fleeting Tessa would’ve thought they weren’t there at all, if she hadn’t been looking for them all this time. In a lifetime of logistics and planning and choreographed dances, the best moments were the unscheduled, spontaneous bursts, when Tessa suddenly didn’t have to know what to feel or how to look or how to act, but just... _be_.

_“Oh god, finally,” she groaned as she threw herself onto Scott’s bed. They had a long-standing agreement that they’d sleep in separate beds whenever they needed to have their shit together the next day. Sex with Scott was a blessing and a curse—the two of them, undoubtedly, would always end up sleeping through alarms or missing breakfast or something amateur like that, because it was just so damn hard to get out of a bed with an incredibly sexy naked person in it._

_Competition seasons were always the worst. Sometimes Tessa would go weeks without sleeping with Scott, which wasn’t terrible, but it’d be a lie to say that she didn’t think of sex with him as a reward. At the end of a long week, or two, or three, of grueling practice, it was simply bliss to lie down and have someone else do all the work for once._

_The last time they’d done it was on the last night of their skating careers. They’d stumbled into the same bedroom after however many weeks of bidding each other goodbye and sleeping in different beds. Scott had already started yanking off his belt before the door had even closed behind them._

_They didn’t even manage to get all their clothes off._

In those moments, when she and Scott could finally be rough and clumsy and unsightly, she could look into his eyes, framed by his dark hair falling past his sweat-drenched forehead, and know that what she was feeling was _real_. The heat of his skin, the ferocity of his touch, the way he just stared and stared at her like he was drinking her in with his eyes... it was like everything they tried to create in front of the eyes of millions of people, but now it was just them. Nobody was watching, but they were still there. They were still Tessa and Scott, blissful. In the dark, under the sheets, the world forgotten. It _was_ love, it _was_ the romantic kind of fluff, it _was_ everything Tessa had ever wanted.

Had those moments not been enough?

The truth was, the majority of their time spent together was a whirlwind of business professionalism and casual friendship, with those moments of fire and red and passion sprinkled in. But eventually, Tessa figured she had always wanted more than just sprinkles, she wanted the whole damn cake. Tessa could never know if there would’ve been more time to actually have a romantic relationship with Scott if their lives hadn’t been consumed by their sport. For the longest time, she believed the answer to that question to be a resounding yes. But five years passed, and then ten, and then fifteen, and then twenty...

Maybe that’s why she’d left him. She was so tired of watching the fireworks that she went to become one.

It was excruciatingly embarrassing how quickly Tessa learned she was wrong. Wrong in all the ways she didn’t even know she could be proven wrong.

So there she was, career-less and free for the first time in her life. Tessa was never a reckless person, but maybe because she couldn’t be. Now, she was dipping her toe into dangerous waters and it was all new and exciting. She’d meet men in faraway cities who hadn’t the slightest clue who she was, buy her too many drinks in bars, and return home with them, only to find them gone in the morning. If they’d stayed, Tessa couldn’t find herself figuring it out with them.

“You actually have to give them a fighting chance, T,” her mother had told her during Thanksgiving, when she’d noticed that the man Tessa said she was bringing hadn’t actually shown up, and suspected that Tessa had let him go... “Give them some time to get to know you.”

Tessa pretended that she didn’t know why she was having such a hard time letting these new men in, but deep down, of _course_ she knew. She felt like she was hitting a wall every time she had to explain to them that, no, she never really went to normal school, because she had been training all throughout her childhood, and no, she never learned how to cook, because she was never home, but she could make some killer poached eggs if they wanted—oh, what a surprise, most grown men didn’t find her lack of cooking skills to be as endearing as Scott did—

 _Scott_.

She found herself sitting in her bedroom, alone, thumb trembling over the “send” button—but no, stop, Scott was very serious about this girl now—

—and then the wedding invitation lands on her doorstep—

—and now she’s trying to have one wholly dirty night with an attractive man from some French-speaking country, and she was frustrated, because even though he was so handsome and flirty and mysterious, he didn’t know what to do with her. Nobody seemed to know, and it seemed like Tessa was doomed to a lifetime of lukewarm sex, because Scott was the _only_ one who knew she liked her earlobe nibbled and one hand fisted in her hair and the other tucked underneath her. She’d even hesitated by the men’s fragrance aisle at the department store, wondering if she should give her new man the same cologne that Scott always wore, but then caught herself and forced herself to stop being like this. She was so lonely her heart could break again.

How completely awful would it be of her to ask for him to give her another chance? He’d already moved on. He was _married_ , for God’s sake. She’d made her decision. Tessa often ended the night with that final thought, and found herself waking up on a tear-stained pillow in the morning.

When Scott divorced his first wife, Tessa was only able to hear it through the grapevine. Her beautiful men were a thing of the past now—she’d thrown herself into her work, never giving her a moment to think or feel or _acknowledge_ how everyone around her was popping out their second kid and she was very much in her thirties and very much alone, very much thinking about one man and one man only (very much married man, but still...).

She was in a meeting with Hillberg and Berk when she found out. She wanted nothing more than the casually leave the office building, drive down to Scott’s house, let herself in, and jump into his bed. But no, she had to behave somewhat respectfully, at least for the meantime, but that meant she could try to talk to him again now, right?

 _After this year_ , she’d told herself, because it was the 2022 Olympics year and her life was consumed by the commentating job she’d agreed to sign up on at the CBC. Scott hadn’t gone to Beijing—his life was too much of a disaster back at home—and the ocean between them seemed to make every physical emotion that distance could take on all the more unbearable.

“ _They skate with so much love_ ,” Tracy had said about a wobbly-kneed pair of 18 year old Russians who’d just entered the rink, their hands clenched so tightly together that Tessa could see their knuckles turning white. “ _They remind me of you and Scott. So much raw passion!”_

Tessa had just swallowed her tears and said, “ _Yeah_.” She had to smile. “ _Yeah, they do_.”

But then, before she could even breathe or blink or think, Scott had just gone and gotten married again.

 _Okay_ , Tessa had told herself, curled up on her bed with her head between her knees. _Give up, Tessa_. _It’s over. He doesn’t need you anymore_. Maybe he’d truly found someone who’d hold his hand like she used to, someone who’d laugh at his jokes—no matter how bad they were—someone who’d rest their cheek in the crook of his neck and run her fingers through his hair as they lay tangled together in the dark. Someone who’d love him. God, she hoped his new wife knew which station was the local country radio and at least _tried_ to keep him from gunning down that hill by his house at 100 kph...

She couldn’t stop the tears that time.

But they were here again, after eight years. Eight years none the wiser. But she was here, with a pair of laced-up skates, skating towards him.

His hair was graying and he had the faintest shadow of an incoming beard to match. He’d definitely slimmed down since she’d last seen him, accentuating every contour on his face and neck. Black jacket, black pants, his hair messy and falling into his eyes. For a moment, he looked so sad. So... defeated, so hollow. Just for a moment. Then he smiled, and his eyes lit up like a shutter flash. He was still unmistakably Scott, standing there with his unmistakably Scott smile. Tessa felt herself grinning back at him, and she was certain her heart had just exploded into a million pieces.

They didn’t say anything for a few moments—they were too busy smiling at each other as they met each other in the center of the rink. Tessa wondered if she should say something, as they drew nearer. But she was still staring at him, and she was certain he was doing the same thing. His eyes were still complicatedly hazel, even when the wrinkles around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. She watched as his eyes trailed and studied her. He was looking at her hair—probably noticing she still wore it up in a ponytail—and she saw his shoulders shrug as he inhaled sharply—noticing she still wore the same perfume and that was probably the first time he’d smelled it in years—

Tessa almost laughed. How could she have possibly thought that she’d find this— _this_ —with anybody else in the universe? They hadn't said a single word, and yet Tessa had already heard a million and one things. Eight years and she could still read him like an open book. She was really such a fool.

"Mr. Scott Moir," she said, giving him a playful curtsey. "What a pleasure."

“How is it that you still look like you’re twenty?” Scott asked as they glided to a stop in front of each other. His brows furrowed sternly, but Tessa knew he was teasing her.

Tessa actually laughed. She heard the sound echo throughout the empty rink. Was that her? She swore she hadn’t heard herself laugh like that in a millennium.

“You don’t look half-bad yourself,” Tessa replied, feeling her lips curve into a smile, even though she’d tried to say that with a straight face. She wasn’t sure if she was giddy or delirious but she knew she was _alive_.

“Thanks,” Scott said as he drew even closer. “That’s what I was going for.” He was right against her face, so close that Tessa could see every eyelash and freckle on his face. He looked at her, _into_ her, his gaze burning her, lighting a fire in her stomach. The same way he’d always looked at her, and the way that nobody else on this planet could possibly look at her. She _knew_. Of course. She had to know.

He opened his arms to hug her, and she complied.

For the first time in years and years and years, she felt the warmth of his skin underneath her cheek. It burned and flickered like the most delightful flame. She smelled his familiar scent of clean soap and aftershave, and couldn’t even remember what had happened to them in the past eight years. Had they really been apart for that long? His arms were still strong and comforting, his fingers immediately finding her hair and twirling into it like they’d always meant to be there. The thudding of his heartbeat under his chest sounded like thunder under her ear.

“Miss me?”

Tessa closed her eyes and let Scott’s voice wash over her.

_They were two identical clocks, wound to tick at the same time, disrupted by entropy, now finally rewinding the gears to match each other once more._

She held him, and he held her, listening, _feeling_ the pulse of their hearts beat, beat, beat... until they were one.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took SO long to finish. I had an original ending written out but I hated it, so I rewrote it like four times before I was finally happy with this version. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for stopping by!


End file.
